


good clean fun

by girljustdied



Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-13
Updated: 2011-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-03 21:03:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17291378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girljustdied/pseuds/girljustdied
Summary: sexual terrorism.





	good clean fun

**Author's Note:**

> before most events of 1x03, but incorporates one or two of them.  
> prompt was "a man needs something he can hold onto. a nine pound hammer or a woman like you."

He goes to a bar the first time after the storm as an experiment. There’s only so many times he can become invisible and walk about his house spying on his family doing mundane things like washing the dishes or having a beer or using the computer.

There are things he wants. Things he won’t find there.

Stands in a small group of people he doesn’t recognize. This way it’s less like spying and more like watching a nature special. Social habits of young men and women in settings involving alcohol. The boys talk, the girls laugh, they all drink, and no one sees him. Business as usual.

This power is strange. It’s not quite like how invisibility is for Alan Scott’s Green Lantern or Susan Storm in _The Fantastic Four_ —people don’t hear him screaming at the top of his lungs in their ears as well.

Simon looks at the long, vulnerable throat of the brunette he’s standing next to. Reaches out carefully and traces the line of it with a fingertip as lightly as possible, hand shaking.

She reacts immediately, palm protectively covering her neck and her eyes looking right through him.

“What the fuck, Thomas?” she snits accusingly.

Simon sucks in a deep breath. Oh. _Oh_. He should leave now.

-

He realizes why he decided to try a different pub a few nights later when he sees her. Alisha. She’s over at the bar, stretching up on her toes to lean over it and scream her drink order on top of the music. Her dress inches up her thighs when she does it, all curves and smooth skin. She’s with another girl.

Chloe, he thinks. Maybe a seventy-five percent likelihood, seeing as that’s the friend she talks about the most. Either Chloe, or Ellie, Melanie, Lucy, Michelle. Or someone she never talks about. He doesn’t think he’s forgetting anyone.

Not that he went to the bar hoping he’d see Alisha, specifically. But he’d chosen a place close to the community center, and chosen to stay visible thinking maybe one of them would be around. He could buy them a drink. Something could happen.

She meets his stare from across the room while she’s got her mouth around the neck of a beer bottle. He knows she sees him. She doesn’t react, though. Just tilts her head back after a long moment and drinks.

Pain. Head spinning, knees weak. He might be sick—is he—?

Alisha’s eyes flick back to him. Unfocused, unseeing, then gone. Back on her friend.

Invisible. He’s invisible. Again.

\---

“Why didn’t you come ‘round and say hello last night?” her voice in his ear. Mouth just a centimeter away before he jerks around to face her in surprise and covers the ear with a hand. Alisha laughs meanly. “Me and Chloe could've shown you a good time.”

He can’t even feel pride over guessing correctly, because Alisha doesn’t mean it. Like bullies at school pretending to think his new rucksack is “just brill” before opening it up and dumping all his things onto the floor.

“Are you scared of me?” she teases.

It’s just the two of them waiting outside the community center for Sally to unlock the front door. Like the beginning of a horror film.

“No,” he lies. From the look of pleasure on her face, not very convincingly. “My power—I can’t control it right. Yet. I had to leave.”

Her eyes widen with interest, and she takes a step closer. He moves back until his shoulder blades hit the wall. “Did you follow us around all invisible and shit? Fuck,” she starts laughing again, “you did!”

“I didn’t.”

“Prick,” she spits out. Leans her side against the wall next to him, too close for comfort. “Pervert.” But she’s smiling crookedly, appreciative. Like it’s not the worst thing in the world.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to say it aloud. Jokes, “What if I did?”

Her mouth twitches, eyes growing serious. Maybe a little afraid.

-

Curtis is bent out of shape over the notes in their lockers. Kelly’s makes three.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Kelly huffs out. Crumples it into a ball angrily.

“We just have to keep on as if the notes don’t mean anything in particular to us,” he knows it’s not soothing, but it needs to be said. “We have the power here.”

“Right,” Alisha crosses her arms over her chest. Doesn’t meet his eyes when he looks over at her.

“Like I said before, Jesus,” Nathan rolls his eyes and slams his locker shut. “They don’t have anything on us. Whoever. Obviously.”

“Quit actin’ like none of you aren’t freaking out as well,” Curtis frowns. Takes the paper from Kelly’s hands and puts it in his pocket. “This is serious, yeah?”

Simon’s not sure if that’s the really issue, however. Maybe Curtis just wants to see any of them express the tiniest bit of the guilt he’s obviously consumed with. Doesn’t understand that’s Kelly’s hands balled into fists, or the wheels spinning around in Nathan’s head, trying to find something abhorrent to say to change the subject.

Alisha’s harder to read.

And Simon’s not sure what he thinks. It’s hard to feel guilty about Tony when it had to be done. When Simon might finally have something close to friends. At the very least, people bound to him, which is perhaps even better. Less fickle.

“I don’t think it’s Sally. I’ve followed her while invisible at the end of day twice, and she hasn’t done anything suspicious.”

Alisha’s head whips in his direction then, eyes wide. Recognition there.

“You sick bastard!” Nathan cries out with glee. Makes Simon want to leave the room immediately—shouldn’t have elected to say anything. “Hey, what kind of knickers does she wear?” And at Kelly’s look of disgust, “You can’t deny it’d be fantastic wank material.”

“Then who else could have done it?” Curtis tries to change the subject back.

Simon’s grateful. “Maybe it’s one of us,” he voices what seems to be the only other possibility.

The room gets quiet.

“Why would anyone of us do a dickhead thing like that?” Kelly asks the question as if it obviously isn’t an option.

“People can be cruel,” is all he can answer in return.

-

His mother asks him if he’s going out on a date when he leaves for the bar out the front door instead of his window in secret. He tells her “yes,” that he’s going to see a girl, because it makes her breathe a sigh of relief. Makes her feel better to think that Simon’s finally starting to act normal. She never visited him when he was in the unit. Neither of his parents did. Not when he was lucid, at least.

The place is packed. People are dancing. He orders a beer after spending five minutes trying to get the bartender to notice his presence, and is surprised by Alisha popping up next to him.

“You followin’ me?” she snarks. “Trying to see if I’m the one taking the piss?” Leans closer to his ear so that she doesn’t have to yell as loud over the music, “Find out what color my knickers are today? I could show you right now, get it over with.”

She’s not trying to seduce him, he thinks. She’s trying to scare him off, make him feel small.

“No,” he blurts out. “Thank you.”

She laughs, leaves without getting a drink. He follows after a moment’s hesitation. Watches as she touches the bare arms of the people she passes with her fingertips. Just hard enough on their skin to make them gasp and stare. Alisha looks back at Simon with a grin before grabbing the wrist of some male-model type roughly. The man practically throws her over his shoulder to drag her towards the loo.

Should he?

Alisha’s giggling, still looking back at him through the crowd every few seconds. Challenging.

He closes his eyes, forces himself to become invisible. For once it happens even though he’s eager for it. Maybe because it’s always easy to feel alone in the middle of loads of people like this.

He just barely manages to get into the small space with them before the stranger Alisha’s kissing slams the door shut and locks it behind them. Watches the man dig his hands under her dress, shove her up against the wall opposite the sink. She meets her own gaze in the mirror above it and grins.

“You fuckin’ like that?” she thrills. “This get you off, freak?”

She’s speaking to him—she’s speaking to _him_.

Her knickers are snagged around her left ankle. Fuchsia. Black polka-dots.

-

“Kelly?”

She’s listlessly stabbing litter and depositing it into the bag he’s holding open. “Wha-?”

“How would I know if—if a girl liked me?”

Kelly grimaces—at first he thinks to the question, but then her answer reveals it’s actually something she’d most likely picked up from his thoughts. “Alisha’s fuckin’ with ya. I’ll tell her to leave you alone, yeah?”

“No,” he’s quick to answer. “That’s all right.”

It’s not like he really thought something was going on with Alisha. She acted completely normal the day after, which was hint enough. But it’s good to have someone like Kelly to put it in perspective. Watching a beautiful girl essentially rape a stranger wasn’t exactly first date material. Maybe an unhinged kind. Like Joker and Harley Quinn. But Alisha wouldn’t even know who those characters are.

It’s possible he’d misunderstood. Surely.

They all stray towards where they’re buried Tony and Gary—and Simon feels like he might have his first asthma attack in years when he sees construction vehicles parked all around.

“Oh, no,” Simon mutters aloud.

“What?” Curtis asks immediately, body tense.

“Everyone look away from me,” he finds himself ordering. It’s like an out of body experience—he knows what exactly he has to do. His power gives him the courage to do it.

“Why?” Alisha pipes up, crosses her arms while Kelly and Curtis avert their eyes immediately at his request.

“Yeah, man—not that we wanna look at your little mousy face anyway.” Nathan.

“I can’t turn invisible with you looking at me.”

Alisha frowns critically, but then turns her head from him without a word.

“Why— _oh_ ,” Nathan comes to it last. “All right, do the legwork. Fine by me.”

Simon spies on the workers, and learns easily that they’re building an environmental monitoring station on the exact same place the bodies are buried. Naturally.

He’d call it karma, if he believed in that people always got what they deserved. Trouble is he knows that isn’t true. Not one bit.

He just has to think of a way to get around this little hiccup. Go back to the group with an idea at hand.

“We need to dig up the bodies, store them somewhere while they dig up the ground for the foundations of the monitoring station. Then bury them again in the same spot.”

No one says anything for a long time, confusion marring their features. It’s a little aggravating, and he opens his mouth to explain further until Curtis speaks up.

“Then they’d be covered in cement and then the station, yeah?” Curtis gleans. Smirks with relief when Simon nods in response. “That’s brilliant.”

Simon has to work hard not to smile at the compliment.

“You’re a weird little sociopath, aren’t you?” Nathan taunts.

No one laughs. Because they probably think so, too. Not because it just isn’t funny.

“We can borrow my dad’s car,” Alisha offers.

“Fuck’s sake,” Kelly sighs.

-

The group has to go clean off graffiti near the local college. Simon tries to see this as a good thing. People he used to know might see that he has friends—possibly dangerous friends. But then Matt’s there, a few meters away, with a book under one arm, a pretty girl on the other. And he’s whispering in her ear. And she’s looking over at Simon. And she’s laughing.

“You a’right?” Curtis asks cagily, trying to play it off as a casual inquiry. “People are pricks, it don’t matter.”

“You look like you’re about to drop a load, mate,” Nathan snickers. “Bombs away!”

Kelly’s looking at Simon like she knows about the bullying and the fire. Probably does, since he’s thinking about it.

He’s so distracted by all the attention he doesn’t notice Alisha leaving the group, walking with purpose towards Matt, until Kelly’s head snaps in that direction and she starts speed-walking after her. Nathan and Curtis exchange amused glances before following, leaving Simon standing there on his own. His feet feel rooted to the ground, and he can only watch as Alisha reaches out and touches Matt’s neck.

His childhood friend starts talking profusely, starts begging and scrabbling at Alisha in a way that makes Simon’s stomach churn. Kelly holds Matt back while Alisha keeps her hand on him.

“Let ‘im go!” Kelly orders. “Bloke’s a dickhead but this is fuckin’ mental!”

“Alisha!” Curtis looks warily at all the skin she has exposed with the top of her jumpsuit wrapped around her waist when he makes a move to try and pull her away. Jumps back when he almost touches her. “Alisha, let him go, yeah?”

Simon must have walked forward without realizing, because now he can hear everything.

“Fucking bitch, get off me!” Matt snarls unattractively at Kelly, then Alisha. “Quit holding out, I just wanna kiss your feet, you slag. Wanna suck your toes—you know you want it—”

“Your boyfriend’s a real prince, yeah?” Alisha smirks over at the girl.

Nathan flicks Matt’s temple and doubles over with laughter at Matt’s distracted non-reaction.

“I’m gonna rip your shoes off—”

Matt’s girlfriend’s mouth trembles with anger and disgust before she turns and practically sprints from the scene. That’s when Alisha lets go.

Matt sags once he’s not in Kelly’s grip anymore. “What—what happened?”

“That’ll teach you to mock a bunch of antisocial types.” Alisha crosses her hands over her chest. “Wanker.”

Simon starts laughing. So much he loses his breath a little, and his gut hurts. Like he can’t remember doing since he was five or so. Everyone looks at him strangely except for Alisha. She grins.

-

He follows her home. Not sure what he’s doing, just knows he has to do _something_. Stays in Alisha’s bedroom while she goes to take a bath and hears her singing through the wall in soft, pretty, low tones. It’s nice. He can pretend like this is a place they share—that the song she’s humming is one he knows.

Touches the things on her dressing table. Make-up, mostly. Jewelry. Some perfume. Sprays one in the air and smiles at the familiarity of the smell. An earring of hers fits easily around his wrist, and he actually jumps in surprise when he sees the gold hoop floating seemingly in midair in the mirror. Huh.

Takes it off after a second though, doesn’t want to scare her.

Not exactly.

The top drawer of her dresser is full of nothing but knickers and bras. It’s like an explosion of color. Polka dots, stripes, flowers—one with Superman’s crest that he touches with a small laugh trapped in his chest. Wonders if she’d even know who “Clark Kent” was if he ever said the name aloud to her.

Feels something hard underneath it, and can’t help but dig under the fabric to see what it is. Finds a deep purple vibrator—not longer than he is, but maybe thicker. A small black ring around the bottom he assumes turns it on, sets the speed. Just as he’s about to see what happens when he turns the ring, he hears the sound of a hair dryer from the bathroom.

Oh—oh, no. He’d almost forgotten she was just in the other room. Something occurs to him. Something he’d never do. But—

The dryer shuts off. He doesn’t have a lot of time to think. Closes her dresser door quietly, then places the vibrator in the middle of her bed on top of her sheets and waits for her to come back, mind racing.

He doesn’t know if she’s ever looked more beautiful, hair in a slightly damp ponytail and body swathed in a thin, pale blue robe. She stops abruptly between her door and the bed, eyes widening as she sees her vibrator there before squinting critically. She takes in the room, eyes passing right through him, a crooked grin blooming on her lips as she walks forward slowly and picks it up in a loose fist. Makes his cock start to harden immediately, just the thought of her touching him like that.

She doesn’t even crawl under the covers. Slips off her robe and lies down on her back on top of the sheets, spread out—all that lovely, lovely skin. Untouchable. He wants her so badly. He can admit it. He’ll admit it—she’d understand—she knows what it’s like—

She turns the small, black ring at the bottom of the vibrator and it comes roaring to life. Nestles it loosely between her thighs before running her hands up her body, one stopping to twist a nipple and the other touching her throat and gripping it slightly so her breath comes out louder, rougher.

He feels frozen. Body humming, shaking.

She sighs—almost a giggle. For show, almost mocking. She knows he’s watching. She has to know. That’s what he keeps telling himself, but there’s still guilt making every feeling sharp inside of him, giving every sensation an edge of something else—something darker.

She reaches down and thrusts the vibrator up inside of her. Feels his jaw slacken as he watches the purple device disappear inside of her. Out. In.

He doesn’t know what will happen if he touches her now, when he’s invisible. Doesn’t know what she’ll do if he does, either—just knows she’ll feel it.

His hand doesn’t shake as he reaches forward to touch a line down her stomach, dip his middle finger into her bellybutton. She shudders, and arches her back, eyes springing open for a brief second before slamming shut again.

“Fuck,” she gasps, presses the vibrator in and out of her cunt faster, hips jerking up off the bed.

He can immediately feel that pull to her, something unhinged inside of him clamoring to be let loose—yanks his hand back. Swears she mouths his name, but no sound comes with it.

“No,” she finally chokes out, hand faltering. “Oh, god. Don’t—”

Being invisible makes him feel braver. Bolder. He tries to think of what he’d like—it’s the only reference he has other than pornography, and those women always seemed like they were in pain—before moving to stand at the end of the bed, between her legs. Leans forward and licks a quick stripe along her inner thigh. She tries to clamp her legs around him, but he wriggles out from her grip, head thick and body aching with the early effects of her power.

He wants this, he thinks. Reminds himself. Is so hard inside his trousers it hurts, but doesn’t want to touch himself just yet and start something he won’t want to stop.

She changes the way she’s using the vibrator, pulls it out and presses its tip to a small nub of skin and starts breathing erratically, throws her head back and lets out a soft whine. Then another, louder than before. She digs the balls of her feet harder into her bed, cries out. Yanks the vibrator away from her body after a short moment and lets it just vibrate loosely in her hand at her side.

He watches her left leg straighten and sag onto her bed. Watches her chest rise and fall, rapid at first before gradually slowing. Little, wheezy sighs keep coming out along with her exhales. He closes his eyes, wants to remember those sounds as clearly as possible—but realizes he mostly hears the vibrator still buzzing away.

Without thinking, he reaches forward and turns the black ring at the end like she did earlier, careful to avoid touching her hand.

She flinches when it turns off. Sits up halfway and tugs her sheets over her chest. “Simon?” Her voice is disbelieving, a little angry. It’s confusing, even after he remembers that she can’t see him. He’d forgotten. “Simon, what the fuck? Show yourself, for fuck’s sake.”

He focuses on doing what she says, chest tight.

“What the fuck was that?” her eyes snap to him immediately.

“You—I—”

“Don’t ever touch me without my permission,” she practically growls. “ _Freak_.”

“You knew I was here,” his voice choked and warbled with hurt. “You knew it was me. You wanted—”

She stiffens. Lies, “No, I didn’t.”

He wants to tell her that she’s no saint, either. Can’t exactly take the high ground when it comes to respecting the bodies of others. But his eyes are stinging and he thinks he might just have a panic attack if she keeps going on like this—

“You’re pathetic. You’re _obsessed_ with me—admit it. Following me all the time. Say it, you fucking prick.”

He shakes his head, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Turn invisible, he tries to order his body. Can’t stand the way she’s looking at him.

“I could make you tell me,” she stands, sheets still casually held against her breasts with one arm while she reaches out threateningly with the other. Her anger quickly turns into something else, voice sensual, “I could make you—”

“No—no—not like that—” he wants to be the one to—

Grabs hers face roughly with both hands and crushes his lips against hers.

The last thing he remembers is her wet gasp against his mouth, her tongue touching his—her hands pulling hard at the short strands of his hair and shoving him down into the bed.

“Alisha—” A curse, a prayer, like breathing, like drowning. Loses himself.

Finds himself.

 


End file.
